With Your Heart In Mind
by maraudings
Summary: She knew from the moment she saw him he was the one she wanted. - massington/cassie. for lisa, summer exchange.


**title:** with your heart in mind  
**author:** alex (so far from so close)  
**rating:** t, because there is some swearing and it's slightly sugesstive i suppose.  
**word count:** 2,637  
**pairing: **cassie/massington  
**disclaimer:** all characters belong to lisi harrison. also, title from the bon iver song, 'hinnom, tx'  
**a/n:** lisssaaaaaaaa. okay, so this was inspired by my gossip girl rewatch that took up most of the first half of my summer. i hope that's okay. the ending got a little wack, but i kind of went with it and the finished product doesn't give me urges to dry heave so that's a good sign. except for the formatting... but i hope you enjoy, lisa! :D  
**prompts:** fallen leaves in spring, cinnamon sugar, and chace crawford (i had to cut friendship bracelets because i could not squeeze it in there. sorry!)

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_- with your heart in mind -_

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For her tenth birthday, all Massie Block wanted were headbands.

Headbands were classy. Headbands were polished, sophisticated, grown-up. When she wore them, she felt as if she actually belonged in the same room as her mother and her posh adult friends. It didn't hurt that her new fictional idol swore by them, either.

Blair Waldorf. What better role model for an aspiring New York princess than the Upper East Side queen? Blair was smart. Blair was polished. Blair was elegance embodied.

Masse was smart, polished, and elegance embodied.

Blair was also sharp and cunning, two more traits that Massie shared, but as her mother would say, "a true lady doesn't _destroy_ people, they out class them".

Massie didn't always agree with her mother.

Blair Waldorf was also privileged enough to have Nate Archibald.

Nate was gorgeous, charming, and completely sweet (Massie could forgive him for the whole Serena thing if Blair could). Nate was so perfect, if he hadn't been fictitious and about seven years her senior Massie would have snagged him for herself. Because as it was, there was no Nate to Massie's Blair.

Not until the eighth grade, anyways.

She knew from the moment she saw him he was the one she wanted. A pretty big decision for a twelve-year-old to make, but when she saw him on that first day of school still tanned from the summer she knew that somehow, he would be hers. Cam Fisher even sort of looked like Chace Crawford.

—

Massie doesn't quite remember exactly how it started with Cam.

She does remember that it was at her parent's annual charity auction. She does remember that she had been standing by the huge arrangement of freesias or peonies or whatever her mother's flower of the month had been. She does remember him approaching her shyly, a sight that made her smile because it proved her assumption that Cam Fisher was different from any other boy.

She doesn't remember the exact words that were exchanged. She doesn't remember the way he smelled, or the way he stood. She doesn't remember what it felt like to be that close to him for the first time.

But those were the small details that didn't matter. What did matter was the memory of the following weekend, when she and Cam split a cinnamon sugar pretzel at the mall and her fantasy relationship became a reality.

He was exactly like how she thought he would be. Nice without being a push over, funny without being mean, confident without being too arrogant. Cam was the perfect gentleman, or at least as close as a thirteen-year-old boy could be.

High school brought more pressure onto the relationship, and suddenly there was more to it than eating lunch together and hanging out at the mall. But Massie didn't care, because as long as she was with Cam the whispers and insinuations of their peers didn't affect her. He was still ever the perfect boy, surprising her with flowers on her birthday and thinking of elaborate ways to ask her to dances when everyone knew she was going to say yes.

Blair and Nate were perfect for each other. Massie and Cam were perfect for each other. But there's a problem with past tenses.

If Nate Archibald was Prince Charming, Chuck Bass was the devil incarnate.

—

There were a few things that need to be said about Derrick Harrington.

To begin with, he was Cam's best friend and polar opposite. He was the bad seed, the playboy, and whatever other high school stereotype there was for assholes who do what they please with little regard for anyone in the fallouts of the messes they create. A constant kink in the face of Massie's fairytale life.

He was exactly like how she thought he would be. An ass who didn't think twice about his sharp remarks, a sense of humor that rivaled the most heartless of humans, and an air of arrogance so prominent it over shadowed the rest of his personality.

It was Derrick who threw the house party at the Fisher residence, resulting in a punishment for Cam so severe he was unable to attend Massie's holiday party. It was Derrick who spiked the punch with vodka at their sophomore homecoming, causing Kori Gedman to hurl on the front of Massie's one of a kind Alice + Olivia dress. It was Derrick who dragged Cam and the other boys out to the Hamptons for his birthday along with his older sister's college friends, which lead up to one of the many fights that a jealous Massie would start with Cam.

It wasn't like she could have erased the stupid, smug, blond boy from her life. He and Cam had been best friends since preschool, and shared a bond close to brotherhood.

His role as the Chuck to their NateandBlair was natural, and he filled the role as if he was born to it.

Massie remembers exactly how it started with Derrick.

At the end of each school year, Alicia Rivera manages to get her parents out of her estate for a weekend and throws a party. There's always a formal dress code and there's always champagne.

She got a little daring junior year and threw a selection from her dad's liquor cabinet into the mix.

That particular night, Cam was in the city for a 'Future Businessmen of America' convention that his father dragged him to in order to continue with his wishes of forcing the family name onto his son. That left Massie to attend the party without her boyfriend.

Not even a half an hour in, Massie takes refuge from the party in the backyard. Perched on a cushioned lawn chair, she kicked off her three-inch heels with a satisfied sigh. If only her entire night could be fixed that easily.

"Rough night?"

She didn't turn, because she didn't have to. "Not in the mood, Harrington." Not that it deterred him—she could hear him take a step off the porch and start across the masonry path. But she still didn't look at him, not until he stood directly in her eyesight.

"Are you so dependent on your boy toy that you can't even have fun at a party without him?"

Derrick's smirk had been irritating, but his relaxed posture was infuriating.

Massie had chosen to ignore him, but of course he wasn't one to be easily swayed. He took a seat on the end of the chair, the cushion sagging under his frame.

He smelled like sandalwood.

"I have to say I'm disappointed in you, Block," He had said, leaning close enough so Massie could get a better look at the collar of his rumpled dress shirt. The top two buttons had been open. "Cam is always so insistent with your good ways, but I was counting on seeing you let your hair down this weekend."

She had rolled her eyes. "I'm sure that you've spent many nights dreaming about that, but I'm sorry to say it's not going to become a reality."

Derrick shrugged. "The you of my dreams is probably better than you are anyways."

"I'm sorry, but are you really talking about hooking up with your best friend's girlfriend, with your best friend's girlfriend?"

"Actually, I never said anything like that. I merely mentioned the possibilities of my uncontrollable subconscious. You're the one going off about us _hooking up_."

To resist the urge to strangle him, she had looked away. The majority of the extensive yard was covered in fallen leaves. As it was spring, the culprit had to be the large oak at the back of the yard. Oaks had always been her favorite.

She could have left. She should have left.

"At any rate, don't flatter yourself," He continued on, that smirk still gracing his features. "I could get better than the frigid queen of Westchester."

"I am not frigid!" Massie gave him credit in that moment for knowing just how to get under her skin. He brought his hand to rest on the cushion at her side, and leaned in close until they were only separated by a few inches.

Their proximity had sprouted a flurry of nerves in the pit of her stomach.

"Not to my standards, sweetheart," His breath tickled her face.

"Half of the playboy mansion's residents would be virginal to your standards, prick."

Another grin. "You're the only girl who I actually enjoy having conversations with, did you know that?"

"Not really one for pillow talk, are you?" Massie had scoffed. "But the feeling isn't mutual, sorry. Do I have to start carrying around insect repellent to keep you at bay?"

He was still _soclose_. "Are you really that bothered by my presence?" She swallowed.

"Have you finally picked up on that?"

By that time, all Massie could see of him were his eyes. Dark and deep. He spoke in a little more than a whisper: "You've had ample time to leave, Block."

She really should've seen it coming. Chuck Bass was going to come for his high society soul mate one way or another.

Just for the record, it wasn't her who closed the space between them. She didn't exactly stop him or move out of the way, but it wasn't of her initiating. Not at first, anyway.

It was predictable. It was low. And yet neither of them wanted to stop.

—

When Cam returned from his convention, Massie was hesitant to go near him. She felt as if her tryst was written all over her face in magic marker, a messy scrawl that read: 'Massie Block screwed your best friend and was completely sober while doing so'. But he had no idea, and it ate her away.

Things eventually got close to normal when the summer rolled around, once Massie steered clear of Derrick and glued herself to Cam's side. It wasn't going to happen again. It couldn't happen again.

The summer meant relaxation. Relaxation before a very busy autumn. College applications and transcript stuffing would take up most of Massie's free time, and Cam would take up less.

As it turned out, it was less than what she had anticipated.

Cam had called her over to his house one morning in early July. And she came, with a huge smile and glossy hair.

"Listen," he said. "I don't really know any other way to say this."

"Say what?" Massie hadn't suspected anything. How naïve of her.

Cam sighed. "This just isn't working out anymore. Us. It hasn't felt right for a long time, and it wouldn't be fair to either of us to keep it going for any longer."

She felt like she had been slapped. "Y-you're breaking up with me? What? Why?"

His gaze was sincere as he looked into her eyes. "I love you, but I'm not in love with you."

Massie wondered if Blair Waldorf had ever been dumped with a line of bullshit like that.

Derrick wasn't that hard to find. He was in his backyard when Massie came over, shooting hoops in his half-basketball court shirtless as if he knew she would be coming over that day.

"Did you know about this?" There was no way he didn't. He knew everything that had to do with Cam.

He turned. "I take it he finally broke up with you."

"Finally? What the hell do you mean, _finally_?"

Massie was surprised to see some remnants of sympathy in his expression. "He's been thinking of breaking up with you for a while—late April, I think. Jesus, why do you think I went after you when I did? I'm not that much of a dick."

The information was processed, and she was livid. "Wow, okay. Fuck you."

Her words did nothing more but make him smirk. "You already have. Besides, don't be so sour. You're free from Cam, let loose. Pull that stick out of your ass."

In only a few quick movements Massie had stolen possession of the basketball from his hands, ignoring the feel of his skin against hers as she pried it from his grip.

"That's adorable, Block," Derrick said. "Now give it back before you hurt yourself."

"Stop calling me that."

"What, Block?" His smirk had returned. "What are you even doing here, anyways? Your boyfriend just dumped you and you figured we could have another go, is that it?"

She didn't respond, afraid of what would come out.

"Because it's not going to happen. It's not," He spoke harshly, the smirk gone by this time. "Go find someone else to mess with. Five years is enough for me, don't you think?"

It wasn't until later, at home, lying atop her duvet did she really get what he had said. Five years. She'd known him for five years.

She didn't exactly notice him at first. Everyone had paled in comparison to Cam Fisher. But Derrick was always there. He didn't start to get obnoxious and crass until high school started, but he had always been there.

—

She called him up a few days later, asked him to meet her at the ridiculous frozen yogurt shop that just opened and she loved. He arrived just as she sat down at one wrought iron tables in the sunshine with her cup of the dessert. He looked annoyed, not that she blamed him.

"Are you getting any?" She started lamely, because she was lame. She felt lame.

He looked at the ground. "I don't really do frozen yogurt."

"Its cappuccino flavored."

Derrick didn't say anything to that.

"Last week…" Massie started slowly. "Last week, you said something, and I don't… I don't fully understand."

He looked bored, disinterested.

"You said—well, implied, that I had been screwing with you for years. I don't get it."

He exhaled a sigh. "Maybe not intentionally, then." He looked at her for the first time that afternoon. "It's not that hard to figure out, and quite frankly I'm surprised someone with your brain power hasn't pieced it together yet, but I'll spell it out for you anyways. In the eighth grade, you picked my best friend over me. I've had to live with the two of you throwing yourselves in my face since then."

She swallowed. Though her hunch was correct, it didn't stop the shock from hearing it from his lips. She hadn't even known he was interested all those years ago. She wondered if she had, would it have turned out any differently.

"Is that all?" He asked, colder this time. "Are you finished with me yet?"

No, Massie Block wasn't finished with Derrick Harrington just yet.

She didn't really know how to say it. She really hardly knew him, but it felt like she did. It would have been different. Because while Cam was kind and modest, Derrick had always known how to challenge her.

"Are you sure you don't want any?" She gestured to her cup, and it meant more than just an invitation to eat some yogurt with her. A second chance, if he'd have her.

And he picked up on it, just like she knew he would. "Cappuccino, did you say?" The stupid grin was back.

Chuck Bass was no Nate Archibald, but Blair had been meant for him.


End file.
